Black Sheep (24 page)

Finally, he paused, his eyes going wide and his mouth dropping open. The life slowly melted away from his expression, and his body went limp beneath me.

I’d killed him.

I’d saved Nicole and myself.

I rolled off his lifeless body and turned back toward Nicole to check on her. But she was no longer sitting on the couch. Instead, she was coming my way with wide eyes. She was screaming something, but no sounds seemed to be coming from her mouth.

“It’s okay,” I slurred, suddenly realizing how weak I felt. “He’s gone. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

I stood from the floor, but the ground beneath my feet shifted. I hadn’t realized it before, but my chest was on fire as if something had burrowed deep under my skin and began to burn.

Looking down, I saw that blood was spreading across my chest, filling the fabric of my cotton T-shirt completely.

“Tyson!” Nicole screamed again, grabbing me as I slowly swayed from side to side.

Then all the strength in my body rushed away, leaving me totally weak and defeated, and I dropped to the ground.

Nicole was above me, crying and screaming, but her voice was a million miles away. Her words muffled as if she were speaking through a pillow, and I couldn’t understand her.

Looking up into her beautiful face, I watched as panic took over her expression. I wanted to reach up and wipe away the blood from her skin. She was too perfect … too beautiful to be marred with such ugliness. Seeing how badly she was hurt made me happy that I’d shot the bastard and killed him.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “He shot you!”

Shot.

Shot.

Her words were on repeat in my mind, and suddenly, everything was beginning to make sense.

The fire in my chest grew, fanned by the tiny bits of panic that were seeping into me. I could understand her. I knew what she was saying.

Needles had fired off two shots before I took him down. I didn’t feel it at the time since I was full of adrenaline and determined to keep Nicole safe. But the fact was he hadn’t missed. I’d taken two bullets to the chest, and my body was slowly shutting down on me.

Nicole

TYSON WENT DOWN
hard, landing on the floor and knocking over the table and lamp beside the couch in the process. I dropped at his side and covered the bleeding spots on his chest with my hands.

“Tyson!” I screamed. “Don’t you die on me. Don’t you dare die on me!”

I was yelling and screaming, but I had to do something. If I didn’t, he’d die.

I jumped up and went in search of my phone. I needed to call for help. Finding my cell on the kitchen table, I ran back to the living room and fell at his side. Sliding my finger across the screen, I dialed 911 and hit send.

His fingers brushed my face, and I crushed his hand against my cheek as I looked down into his wide eyes.

“I’m calling for help. Just hang on. Please, just hang on.”

He sputtered as he tried to speak, and blood spurted from his mouth and landed on his lips and chin.

“Shhh.” I tried to quiet him. “Don’t talk. Help’s coming.”

The operator came on the line, and I blurted out everything they needed to know.

“My boyfriend’s been shot. He needs help. Please come quick.”

I shouted out my address and dropped the phone at my side still connected to the operator. I could hear her telling me help was on the way, but things were moving so fast that nothing made sense to me anymore.

Again, Tyson reached for me, but his hand didn’t make it to my face. He was growing weaker by the second. Instead, his arm dropped to the floor as if he didn’t even have enough energy to lift it.

I grabbed his hand and pulled it to my cheek, holding his cold palm against my skin. He was turning pale before my eyes, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body.

I couldn’t lose him.

Not like that.

We’d argued.

I’d said things.

He’d said things.

We needed to squash it all, but it was possibly too late.

He opened his mouth to speak to me again, but instead of words, choking sounds spilled from his lips.

“Help’s coming, Tyson … They’re coming.”

His fingers curled around my cheek, and I turned my face into his palm, marking my memory with his touch in case it was the last time I ever felt it. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.

After years of longing for Tyson, I finally had him. We’d only just begun our lives together in a lot of ways. I couldn’t lose him so soon. It wasn’t fair.

He’d had a rotten childhood, yet he’d survived all those terrible things. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved so much more.

“Nicole,” he whispered, struggling to breathe much less speak.

His chest rattled with a cough that sent more blood splatter across his lips and cheeks.

I cupped his face in my hands and held eye contact with him. As long as he was looking back at me, he was alive.

Then he opened his mouth once more, and the words I’d longed to hear from him came tumbling out with his last ounce of energy.

“I love you,” he garbled, filling my heart to the rim.

Tears rushed to my eyes, spilling over my lids and running down my cheeks.

He’d said it. I’d always known Tyson loved me more than anything. Even now, he was lying on the ground dying because he’d taken two bullets for me. But hearing it did something to my spirit. It lightened all my dark corners and illuminated every shadow in my crumbling soul.

“I love you too, Tyson,” I whispered back to him. “More than you could ever know.”

His hand grew even heavier in my grasp, and his expression went from tense to soft. His wide eyes slowly began to close, and his body stilled.

“Tyson?” I screamed, cupping his cheeks and trying to keep eye contact.

But he didn’t respond.

Instead, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled one last time.

SHE WAS THE
most beautiful girl in the world, and she was mine. Her blond curls matched my own, but her dark eyes were her father’s. I could see him in her every day—in her smile and in her laughter. She was her father’s daughter in every way.

I smiled up at the stage as she twirled and laughed with the girls around her; her chubby cheeks pushed up, making her dimples pop. The light from above touched the glittery parts of her little purple tutu, making her shimmer when she moved.

She was my everything—my world—my heart.

“Did I miss anything good?” Brian asked as he dropped into the seat beside me.

He was in his second semester at The College of Charleston. His schedule was ridiculous, but no matter what, he always made time to attend Ava’s recitals.

He was the proud uncle from the day I brought her home to our tiny three-bedroom house on the other side of town, and he’d remained that way, spoiling her rotten and becoming her favorite person in the world.

It had been hard selling the home we grew up in, but we bought something smaller and cheaper and started a new kind of life. After a while, things clicked into place perfectly.

The pianist changed the song, and the girls went into their second routine, overstepping each move and not quite keeping up with the music.

They were perfect, and I’d never been more proud.

Being the director of Anna’s School of Dance, it was only natural that I’d put my daughter in dance classes. At first, I worried she wouldn’t love it as much as I did growing up, but seeing her on the stage as she wiggled her little hips and giggled with the girls in my class, I knew she was a natural.

It didn’t matter to me if she was the best. All that mattered was she had fun, and I could see from the light in her dark eyes and the dimples dug into her cheeks that she was definitely enjoying herself.

“No. It just started,” I responded.

“She’s so freaking adorable,” Amber said from behind me as she leaned over my shoulder. “I swear she’s grown so much since the last time I saw her.”

Amber came to town as often as she could, but being a resident at a hospital in Atlanta made it difficult for her to come to all of Ava’s recitals. I appreciated her being there. We’d grown even closer since the birth of Ava, and I was glad things were beginning to feel normal again.

“Of course, she’s adorable,” Brian said proudly. “She has her Uncle Brian’s looks.”

I pushed my shoulder into his and chuckled. “You wish. She might’ve been blessed with our blond hair, but that’s a miniature Tyson up on that stage.”

And then I felt the warmth of him at my side as he leaned into me and slid his large hand into mine.

“I agree,” Tyson said with a grin. “She’s all mine.”

I looked over at him and smiled.

There had never been a man more beautiful than Tyson, and seeing the way he looked at our baby girl as she spun and danced on the stage only made me love him more.

It hadn’t been an easy road for us. And after the shooting, when I thought I’d lost him forever, there was a lot of recovery for Tyson. But I’d stayed by his side every second, relieved that he hadn’t died that day on the floor. He’d fought hard to regain his strength and come back to me.

Leaning over, I pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

“I love you,” I said, moving into his side.

His dark eyes scanned my face, seeing me inside and out, and his sexy grin pulled at the side of his mouth.

“Not as much as I love you.”

There was no doubt in my mind that he loved me as much if not more than he admitted. I’d watched him take two bullets for me before slowly dying on my living room floor.

Memories I wouldn’t soon forget, but it reminded me every day of the special person I had in my life—of the love I had.

He turned away from me, his eyes moving over the stage as he watched our daughter dance.

“Our tiny dancer is really good,” he said proudly.

“Yes, she is. They’re all doing a wonderful job.”

Then he slid his hand from mine and cupped my enlarged stomach where our son was growing.

“I wonder what he’ll be into.”

His smile grew radiant, and I felt joy that I’d been able to make Tyson so happy.

Things weren’t perfect. Owning his own tattoo shop, he had less free time, as did I, running a dance school for kids, but we made it work. We struggled together financially and emotionally, but the point was we were together.

We’d married a year after Ava was born—making it official and changing my name to Nicole Payne. I could hardly believe how great our life had turned out, considering everything we’d gone through over the years … especially Tyson, who was now going to therapy once a week. But it was worth every second of heartbreak—every moment of doubt—every minute of the struggle to have him by my side.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see when he gets here in two months.”

I covered his hand with my own and sighed in happy contentment. My eyes moved away from our hands and back to our daughter, who was turning with her arms in the air. Once she was facing us again, she waved down at her father and me, making the moms on the front row giggle.

When the show was over, our group went out to dinner to celebrate Ava’s recital. And by the time we’d said our goodbyes to Amber, who was going back to Atlanta, and Brian, who was going back to his dorm, we were exhausted.

Ava fell asleep in the back of the car, and when we got home, Tyson took her to her room while I made sure everything was taken care of in the rest of the house. By the time I got upstairs and ready for sleep, Tyson was already lying in bed.

He was naked from the waist up, propped against his pillows with his arms behind his head as he waited for me. My eyes moved over his thick arms, taking in the ink he’d tattooed over the years.

I stopped when I reached Ava’s tattoo, a tiny cherub perched over her name, and I smiled. Moving toward the bed, he grinned up at me and pulled the covers back for me to join him.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful,” he said, snuggling into my side and pressing a sweet kiss to my shoulder.

“No, I’m not. I’m huge,” I pouted.

My ankles were swelling, and I’d already had to remove my wedding rings. Our little man was giving me a hard time, but I knew he’d be worth every second.

Again, Tyson planted a kiss against my shoulder.

“You’re not huge; you’re perfect. You’re my light.”

And then he pulled me tighter to him and slowly began to fall asleep.

For years, he’d told me I was his light—that I erased the darkness from his life. But what he didn’t know was that he was the one who illuminated my world.

He’d always told me that I was the Palmer’s golden child, and he was nothing but the black sheep of the family, but as I slowly drifted to sleep, a tiny smile tugged at my lips because I knew the truth.

Tyson was the black sheep, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was he was mine.